


The Grind

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Erica has a dirty mind, F/M, Grindr AU, M/M, Multi, Vernon Boyd & Stiles Stilinski Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: Stiles has had a long day, and Erica tries to help him... in a slightly unorthodox way.(Short summary to avoid spoilers!)





	The Grind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/gifts).



> Inspired by a post on Tumblr (which I will attempt to embed) with a screenshot of a very explicit, and then adorable, Grindr convo. My Sterek-y edit of the post is in the fic.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll expand on this, but I do seem to be on an inspiration-kick, so we'll see how y'all like it!
> 
> *Some people are having trouble seeing the text conversation image, I am trying to figure out what the problem is*

“Ugh,” Stiles whined, throwing himself dramatically onto Erica and Boyd’s couch, one arm draped over his face.

“Rough day, babe?” Erica asked from her perch on the adjacent armchair, shaking her head as Stiles wiggled his feet on Boyd’s lap, silently demanding attention. Boyd rolled his eyes fondly, but settled a hand on Stiles’ calf and absently ran his thumb back and forth; Stiles relaxed slightly at the small comfort, and Erica grinned at them.

Stiles’ phone beeped, and he practically threw it at the coffee table with another drawn out “Uuugh!” This one was decidedly angrier. The clatter of the phone skittering over the table made them all wince. “It’s _Friday_ , leave me a- _lone_ ,” Stiles whined. Again. In his defense, it was a very long week.

“You know what you need?” Erica said seriously.

“A nap,” Stiles answered at the same time Erica said “To get laid.”

Boyd snorted, and Stiles dropped his arm from his eyes so he could turn his head and look at Erica. “Unless that’s an offer to make another attempt at being the world’s hottest throuple, I must disagree.”

“You know, your insistence on calling us that is 90% of the reason we didn’t work out,” Boyd teases from the end of the couch, where Stiles’ feet still rest in his lap.

Stiles turns to Boyd, a look of faux-indignation on his face. “Now you tell me?! I could have made up a more agreeable term, if only I’d known, Vernon!”

Boyd laughs lightly and pats Stiles’ leg. “Sorry, Stiles,” he says around a smile that still makes Stiles light up with answering joy.

“Well, it was that and our misaligned biological clocks,” Erica adds with a hum, drawing Stiles’ attention back to her. 

“There was that,” Stiles concedes. “We were pretty great for a while though, yeah?” he asks, mild uncertainty sneaking into his voice.

Erica smiles softly at her best friend, “Hell, yeah we were. We’re still pretty awesome, I think. Just spend less time without our clothes on now,” she adds with a laugh and a wicked grin. Boyd and Stiles both laugh at that, and they settle into a comfortable silence, broken only by the quiet murmur of the television that none of them are watching for background noise. Stiles closes his eyes as Boyd squeezes his calf reassuringly before he starts rubbing it gently again.

A frown pulls at Stiles’ lips, and he tilts his head towards Erica, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Hey, Er? What’re you doin’ with my phone?” Stiles asks, having just realized that Erica had been tapping away at his screen when he last looked over.

“Hmm? Oh, just reactivating your Grindr and talking to some guys,” Erica replies, calm as can be.

Stiles nods into the pillow under his head and hums in acquiescence for a moment before he bolts up with a shriek of “You’re _what_?”

He ignores Boyd’s laugh, and glares at Erica’s annoyingly serene smile, making grabby hands at his phone. “Here,” Erica says, standing to hand it over and plopping gracefully onto Boyd’s newly vacated lap, “I think I’ve got a live one for you, he’s really hot, too.”

Stiles waves her off with a “None of the really hot guys on Grindr are real people,” as he scrolls through the app, reading over the messages Erica had sent, going paler as he went through. “ _Why are all the messages you sent so_ horny! Jesus Chist, Erica!”

“Not sorry,” she sing-songs. “You’ll thank me when you get some, sweetheart.”

“I hate you,” Stiles says flatly, glaring his best glare.

“Liar.”

When his phone beeps in his hand, he nearly throws it, but manages to juggle it quickly back into his grasp. “Oh my freaking god,” he whispers, face flushing red and the back of his neck flaming as he looks over the message thread. “Erica, what the _fuck_?!”

Staring back at him from the screen is a small, square picture of an absurdly attractive man, and the most horrifyingly pornographic opening message Stiles has ever seen--and that’s saying more than a little for someone who used to frequent hook-up apps in his early twenties. 

And directly below that, the most endearing possible response.

Stiles is pretty sure he’s about to be fucked, but like, in a sweet way.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think?
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.poetry-protest-pornography.tumblr.com) and maybe tell me (gently) to get back to my WIPs!


End file.
